


my dragonfly, my black-eyed fire (the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood)

by lifechiaroscuro



Series: Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvait. [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 5 Times, 5 Times Adam is Depressed By the Knowledge He Loves Ronan + 1 Time He Isn't, 5+1 Things, Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Existential Angst, Fic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-The Raven King, This somehow turned into a, and yet we love them so, loves him so much that he tries to ruin everything, post-trk, richard siken, these boys are hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifechiaroscuro/pseuds/lifechiaroscuro
Summary: ‘Here I am, leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.’~Snow and Dirty Rain, by Richard SikenorRonan and Adam both have some issues. Neither of them deal with those issues well, but in the end it all works out.





	my dragonfly, my black-eyed fire (the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is 2600 words of existential angst (‘Vertigo isn't caused by the fear of falling from a cliff so much as the fear that you can't trust yourself not to throw yourself off.’), ending with only 300 words of tentatively happy Pynch. You have been warned.  
> 2\. For the record, I do feel like Adam would have a bit of internalized homophobia, but I also feel like it would be subconscious.  
> 3\. And a warning, should you decide to read Siken: He’s literally always really depressing, and - as these poems show - he can get violent. Like, "suicide, abuse, and possibly murder"-violent.
> 
> It’s been ages since I wrote proper angst, but I actually like this one pretty well, so I hope you do, too.
> 
> Update: I realized that the whole bit with Adam's father wasn't canon-compliant. That has now been fixed.

_Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means we’re inconsolable._

They don’t plan it. They don’t plan anything. They don’t plan it, or anything, or talk about the kiss. 

But here they are. 

Here they are; and this is Ronan, and this is Adam. This is Ronan, and this is him, and this is Ronan laying against his chest. This is Ronan laying against his chest, here in the Barns. Here in the Barns after his mother’s funeral. This is Ronan, laying against his chest; just like he had, here in the Barns, after the kiss. 

It wasn’t a regular funeral. Aurora hadn’t died, per say, just... disappeared. Gone back to that nebulous place from which she had come, never to be seen again. There was a makeshift memorial, now, on the edge of the forest bordering the Barns. No one had spoken much. Declan, never good at expressing emotions, had said a few, halting words. Matthew had cried over it, cried that he missed her. Ronan had said nothing, not while they were there. But he’d stayed until they weren’t. Blue and Gansey had come, but they left not long after Declan, Opal, and Matthew, leaving Adam lingering. 

“He took you from a dream.,” Ronan had said. “You were too perfect, I could never forget it. I hated Dad for it. But,” he pauses, like he’s not sure he should continue, or doesn’t want to, “you were my mother.”

It sounds almost hateful when he says it, defiant: “I loved you.”’

He knows that Adam is there.

He lays a flower down. It’s bright, it’s alien, it’s beautiful. 

It’s a dream thing.

Adam can’t help but love it, a bit. 

Ronan turns back, and looks at him, and that look.

Oh, and that look.

_Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  
These, our bodies, possessed by light._

Ronan had laid down on top of him without a word. Blue had taken one look at them, at Adam’s gaze - openly protective, just this once, now Ronan can’t see - and pulled Gansey out of the room just as her boyfriend was opening his mouth. They were alone, quiet. 

Ronan hadn’t cried, at the funeral. 

Ronan won’t cry now. 

Ronan may never cry, or he will, and it’ll be a hurricane. 

Adam is okay with that, he thinks, looking down at Ronan’s neck where tattoo escapes his shirt. He will brave this youth’s hurricanes. He’s looking down at Ronan’s neck, and thinking he wants to kiss it. He wants, and he wants, and he wants. 

Adam loves him.

 _Tell me we’ll never get used to it._  
_____

_But damn if there isn’t anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun, a fast car, a bottle of pills._

He’d never really understood why Ronan had been attracted to Kavinsky, Adam had reflected as Ronan lashed out. He’d never needed a weapon, nor drugs to intoxicate him. He’d never really needed to race the dream-thief, or even throw a punch. 

Ronan Lynch is sharp edges, destruction, shining darkness; a dreamer who is so very awake and so very, very, very alive. You could cut yourself on him without trying, and he’ll never even know. He’s beautiful like a knife fight and Adam can’t look away.

_We pull our boots on with both hands but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say_

He’d seen dark blood trickling down Ronan's face and suddenly he’d flashed back to the demon, and Ronan dying, and Ronan dying - 

“ _Stop!_ " 

He hadn't even registered moving between Declan and Ronan, but he’d gotten a nice right hook for it, and he’d gone still a moment, disoriented enough that he’d been knocked back into Ronan, and for a moment he’d been back - oh god, he’s back in that goddamn trailer with his father holding him up by the shirt - 

“How _dare_ you,” Ronan had hissed, then exclaimed, “How fucking _dare_ you!” 

He’d come back to himself and Ronan had caught him, had been holding him up, holding him protectively.

“ _How fucking **dare** you touch him_!”

“Ronan,” Adam had said. 

Ronan had glanced down at him, and Adam had straightened up. Ronan hadn't dropped his arms.

_“No-”_

“Ronan,” Adam had said, more strongly. 

“I -” 

Something had come over him, and he’d put a hand on one of Ronan's arms, and quietly said, “Ronan.” 

Ronan had looked at him properly, and something had flashed across his face, something vulnerable. It had been gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. He’d dropped his arms, and the look had been replaced with a glare aimed at Declan.

Adam had looked at Declan. There'd been something complicated on his face as well as shock.

“I'm leaving,” Declan had simply said.

Ronan had stayed silent, glowering. 

It had changed when Declan had left. 

“Are you alright?” Ronan had asked. Even he’d seemed surprised by his own overt display of concern. 

Adam had shivered, remembering.

“Here,” Ronan had said, and given him his jacket. “I like it, I don't want to bleed on it.” 

That had been more familiar. Adam had offered him a rag from his bag, and they’d leaned against Ronan's car as they waited for his nose to stop bleeding. 

The he’d said, “Let's go.” 

“Where?” 

“Anywhere,” Adam had said. Feeling bold and wild, he’d reached into Ronan's pocket and taken out the keys. 

Ronan had gone very still. 

“Just drove it like you stole it,” Adam had finished, and offered him the keys. 

The dreamer had grinned, a razor-sharp, untamed grin, and snatched the keys from his hand.

Three weeks later, and Ronan still hasn't asked for his jacket back.

Adam loves him.

 _'Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.’_  
_I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time._  
_____

_Sunlight pouring across your skin, your shadow flat against the wall._

He’d slept in Adam's apartment again. He’d said once that other than the Barns, it was the only place he could really sleep. It had shocked Adam, not so much the fact as the reality of him admitting it.

The light of early morning is gracing Ronan's face, and god, he is beautiful. 

Adam doesn't deserve him.

_The dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs._

It's strange, that the thought has come so strong so early in the morning. Then again, it had always been like this. He’d known almost upon waking up that his father's rage would be worse that day, that Cabeswater was truly dying, that Ronan Lynch _could_ destroy him but he _would_ destroy Ronan Lynch. 

Ronan opens his eyes, and in that half-asleep space, he looks content.

Adam loves him.

 _You had not expected this, the bedroom gone white, the astronomical light pummeling you in a stream of fists._  
_____

_You try to warn him, you tell him you will want to get inside him and ruin him, but he doesn't listen._

He decides, finally, to say something. Ronan has been looking at him more often, more openly, like he doesn't care about being caught. They're walking to his fucking apartment, and he finally decides to fucking say something.

(Oh god, Ronan is rubbing off on him.)

“I wouldn't be any good for you,” Adam says without looking at him. “My dad's not completely wrong. I don't know how to love someone, not really.” 

Ronan's mouth drops open slightly, and Adam abruptly realizes he’s said “love”. But he pushes on. 

_You do this, you do, you take the things you love and tear them apart or you pin them down with your body and pretend they're yours._

“I say the wrong things, and I do the wrong things, and I push away everyone I care about.” 

“So do I,” Ronan argues. 

“I’d _ruin_ you,” Adam says vehemently, stopping in his tracks.

“ _I don't care_ ,” Ronan challenges.

Adam yanks him into a kiss right there on the sidewalk. They're going to be arrested for public obscenity, probably. He doesn't fucking care.

 _So you kiss him, and he doesn't move, he doesn't pull away, and you keep on kissing him.  
And he hasn't moved, he’s frozen, and you’ve kissed him,_

Ronan stills when Adam pulls away, his face unreadable. 

“You don't even care, do you?” Adam asks, well aware what he's doing. Well aware of his lie.

He’s got his father in the back of his head and he goddamn hates it.

“Now that I’ve kissed you, you’ve realized that’s all you wanted, haven't you?” he accuses. “It was all about the chase.”

“Don't you fucking dare tell me how I feel!” Ronan hisses. 

“Well you sure as hell haven't been doing it!” 

“You don't know the _half_ of what I feel about you!” Ronan exclaims.

“Oh, I think I do,” Adam says scathingly, ignoring the pang Ronan’s words cause. “But you don't even care enough to say that.” 

“You know what?” Ronan spits out. “Fuck you! _Fuck you_!”

He whips around and storms off. 

Adam watches him go, breathing slightly labored.

Adam loves him.

 _and he’ll never forgive you, and maybe now he’ll leave you alone._  
_____ 

_It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same 'running from something bigger than yourself’ story._

They'd been ignoring each other, mostly, since the fight. They're civil around the others, but otherwise they appear to pay no mind to each other. It's like they're strangers.

Ronan is hurting, and Adam can't stand it.

It's like they're strangers, but when Adam says, “I have to go to my house,” Ronan says, “I’m driving you.” 

It's stupid, really, just a textbook he’d left at home and now has to return, but it's on his father's turf, and he no longer has Cabeswater’s protection, and the anxiety is overwhelming and Ronan doesn't help it like he usually, somehow, does. 

He doesn't quite remember what started it, afterwards, but it seems like his father had gotten suspicious that he had feelings for Ronan - or for a boy, at least. And then there's shouting, and a punch is thrown, and he's back to that boy he was before, and it's worse than it's ever been, or maybe it's just been a long time since it's happened - 

There’s a bang and the violence abruptly stops, but there's still shouting, and Adam looks up from his place on the floor - when had he fallen, he doesn't remember - to see Ronan, again; because it was always going to be Ronan. His avenging angel, even when he tries to keep him away. 

He’s pretty sure his father's wrist in broken, from the way he's clutching it and looking at Ronan in shock, and fuck, he’ll never forgive himself if assault charges are filed - 

Ronan's yanking him up and they're running from the house, and it hurts like hell to move, and for some reason he still has his textbook in one hand. 

They speed off, but Ronan doesn't go far, probably just enough that he thinks Adam's dad won't get to them. Adam doesn't really know. He’s not sure of much of anything, at the moment. 

Ronan pulls into some random parking lot and runs around to the opposite side of the car. He yanks the door open.

“I know you don't want to go to the hospital, so take off your shirt.” 

Adam blinks at him. 

“Take off your shirt, Parrish, or I swear to God I’m going to rip it off.” 

Some part of Adam’s mind quips that those words should sound sexier. He wonders why he's thinking that, and then remembers what he’d looked up online. He can't afford a therapist, but he's 90% sure he's dissociating right now. Also, he may have a concussion.

He realizes with sudden certainty that Ronan hadn't broken his father's wrist. He doesn't know how he knows it, but he knows that it had been another thorn. He'd thought it would have been impossible, but maybe it hadn't been just him. His raven boy protected him, but he also made Adam strong.

The pain feels slightly distant, but he still groans as he pulls his shirt over his head. Ronan curses, running his hands lightly over Adam's front. 

He presses a couple of places. Adam winces. 

“No sharp pain?” 

“No.” He’s checking for broken ribs.

“We're going to Monmouth. I know where all the first aid shit is there.” 

Adam doesn't argue.

_They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't, you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath who knows what to do with his body, his hands._

Ronan sits him down in the bathroom/kitchen/etc. of the building, cleans him off, wraps his ankle - which is definitely sprained - and gives him some painkillers. 

Adam is still a bit out of it, but it's impossible to not notice the care and outright _tenderness_ with which Ronan does it. It's surprising, but then Adam remembers the hand cream, and "forsan et haec", and thinks maybe it shouldn't be. It makes him feel warm and it hurts him more than any physical injury he has.

“You’re sleeping here tonight,” Ronan says. His tone leaves no room for argument, and Adam's too tired to try. 

Ronan sleeps on the floor and he feels so, so, so far away. 

Adam loves him.

 _We should be belted in, but you still can't get beyond your skin, and they’re trying to drive you into the ground, to see if anything walks away._  
_____ 

_We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it._

He screams awake from a nightmare that night, then cries out again when he feels the effect of the jolt on his injuries. It's late, but not so late that Blue and Gansey will have come home from their date yet, he thinks. Which is good, because he's not sure he wants anyone here, but - 

“Hey,” Ronan says. He looks hesitant until he doesn't, and pushes himself up onto the side of the bed. He’s close, and it's really not so sudden, but Adam's still slightly disoriented, and he flinches away from the movement. 

Ronan jerks back like he's been struck. 

“No!” Adam exclaims, far louder and far more broken than he’d wanted to be. “No, please don't, I’m sorry, I just - I’m _sorry_ -”

Ronan slowly shifts closer, puts one of his hands over one of Adam's, a touch that starts so light Adam almost thinks he’s imagined it. 

“It's okay,” he breathes.

“No, it's _not_ , it's **_not_** , I’m sorry, for all of it, and it's **_not_** -” 

Ronan's hand tightens around his, and he shifts again, almost squirms, obviously indecisive. 

Things start to blur, and fuck, Adam's crying. 

Ronan lets out a loud breath and slowly lays down beside him.

“Hey.”

It's slow, and he doesn't even really process most of it, but at some point Ronan ends up wrapped around him.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s _sobbing_. 

Ronan sighs. He obviously has no idea what to do. 

“Adam,” he says softly.

He registers, distantly, that Ronan's lips are pressed to his head. 

He’s not sure whether that makes it better or worse. 

_I’ll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there?_

He cries himself out eventually. Then he just feels sad. Ronan's lips are still pressed against his head, and it isn't going to last.

“Do you think you could forgive me eventually?” he whispers.

It feels like too much to talk. He’s already risking enough.

“I figured out what you were doing a while ago, Parrish,” Ronan admits. “And it seems I can't stay mad at you long when I actually understand what you're mad about.”

“You mean?” 

“I’ve already forgiven you, you fucking idiot.” It sounds unusually fond, but it's also so very _Ronan_ that he doesn't know what to do.

“And your insecurities and crazy hangups are entirely unfounded, you know.” 

“Really?”

“Like I said I don't care, and I, um…” Here he hesitates, and sounds slightly defiant as he says, “I’m in love with you. I am. You’re completely ridiculous and I’m in love with you.”

Adam's breath catches. “Oh.” 

Ronan's voice is a complicated mix of amusement, sarcasm, and just a hint of nervousness. “Do you always say 'oh’ when someone professes their love to you, or am I just particularly confusing?”

“You’re always confusing,” Adam says abruptly. 

Ronan's face goes carefully neutral. 

Ronan has always been more fragile than most people have recognized. But now, Adam realizes, now Ronan has given him his heart and it's the most fragile thing about him. He holds it in his hands and he has to be very, very careful. 

“You’re always confusing, but it isn't always bad,” Adam explains. “I feel like I'm always learning something new about you. I can never look away, because I’ll miss something.” 

Ronan's mask starts to break at just this little admission, and Adam's watching him in wonder.

“You’re the only person who's professed their love to me.” He shifts his head slightly, kisses Ronan's neck. “And I love you too, idiot.”

Ronan hides his face. Affection bubbles up in Adam. He noses at Ronan's jaw, playful and still a bit shy.

“What do you want?” Ronan asks. There's a smile flickering across his lips. 

“Kiss me,” Adam says. 

Then there's Ronan's lips against his again, finally. It’s soft and sweet, and oh.

Adam loves him.

_We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said 'What do you want, sweetheart?’ and you said 'Kiss me.’_

**Author's Note:**

> The next one is not nearly as depressing, I promise. (ETA of 1 week, I think.) I tried to make it completely happy, and a lot of it is, but Ronan is Ronan, and Adam has a trial to go to. (You’ll definitely like the ending, though.)
> 
> Citations -  
> Richard Siken poems (in order of appearance): _Scheherazade_ ; _Little Beast_ ; _Visible World_ ; _A Primer for the Small Weird Loves_ ; _Driving, Not Washing_ ; _Snow and Dirty Rain_. They can all be found in his book, _Crush_.  
>  The title and summary quotation are from final poem.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://lifechiaroscuro.tumblr.com)


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